CHAPTER 4

That evening Vergilius went to feast with the young Herodian prince, Antipater of Judea. The son of Herod was then a tall, swarthy, robust young man, who had come to see life in Rome and to finish his education. He would inherit the crown--so said they who knew anything of Herodian politics; but he was a Jew, and deep in the red intrigue of his father's house. So, therefore, he was regarded in Rome with more curiosity than respect. Augustus himself had said that he would rather be the swine of Herod than Herod's son, and he might have added that he would rather be the swine of Antipater than his father. But that was before Augustus had learned that even his own household was unworthy of full confidence.

Antipater had brought many slaves to Rome, and some of the n.o.blest horses in the empire. He had hired a palace and built a lion-house, where, before intimates, he was wont to display his courage and his skill. It had a small arena and was in the midst of a great garden.

There he kept a lion from northern Africa, a tiger, and a black leopard from the Himalayas. He was training for the Herodian prize at the Jewish amphitheatre in Caesarea. These great, stealthy cats in his garden typified the pa.s.sions of his heart. If he had only fought these latter as he fought the beasts he might have had a better place in history.

Antipater had conceived a great liking for the sister of Appius. Her beauty had roused in him the great cats of pa.s.sion now stalking their prey. He had sworn to his intimates that no other man should marry her. His gallantry was unwelcome, he knew that, and Appius had a.s.sured him that a marriage was impossible; but the wild heart of the Idumean held to its purpose. And now its hidden eyes were gazing, catlike, on Vergilius, the cause of its difficulty. In Judea he would have known how to act, but in Rome he pondered.

It had been a stormy day in the palace of Antipater. He had crucified a slave for disobedience and run a lance through one of his best horses for no reason. He came out of his bath a little before the hour of his banquet, and two slaves, trembling with fear, followed him to his chamber. They put his tunic on him, and his sandals, and wound the fillets that held them in place. One of the slaves began brushing the dark hair of his master while the other was rubbing a precious ointment on his face and arms.

"Fool!" he shouted. "Have I not told you never to bear upon my head?"

He jumped to his feet, black eyes flashing under heavy brows, and, seizing a lance, broke the slave's arm with a blow and drove him out of the chamber. A few minutes later, in a robe of white silk and a yellow girdle, he came into his banquet-hall with politeness, dovelike, worshipful, and caressing.

"n.o.ble son of Varro!" said he, smiling graciously, "it is a joy to see you. And you, brave Gracus; and you, Aulus, child of Destiny; and you, my learned Manius; and you, Carus, favored of the Muses: I do thank you all for this honor."

It was a brilliant company--gay youths all, who could tell the new stories and loved to sit late with their wine. As they waited for dinner many tempting dishes were pa.s.sed among them. There were oysters, mussels, spondyli, fieldfares with asparagus, roe-ribs, sea-nettles, and purple sh.e.l.lfish. When they came to their couches, the dinner-table was covered with rare and costly things. On platters of silver and gold one might have seen tunny fishes from Chalcedon, murcenas from the Straits of Gades, peac.o.c.ks from Samos, grouse from Phrygia, cranes from Melos. Slaves were kept busy bringing boar's head and sow's udder and roasted fowls, and fish pasties, and boiled teals.

Other slaves kept the goblets full of old wine. Soon the banquet had become a revel of song and laughter. Suddenly Antipater raised a calix high above his head.

"My n.o.ble friends," he shouted, "I bid you drink with me to Arria, sister of Appius, and fairest daughter of Rome--"

Vergilius had quickly risen to his feet. "Son of Herod," said he, with dignity, "I am in your palace and have tasted of your meat, and am therefore sacred. You make your wine bitter when you mingle it with the name of one so pure. Good women were better forgotten at a midnight revel."

A moment of silence followed.

"My intention was pure as she," Antipater answered, craftily. "Be not so jealous, my n.o.ble friend. I esteem her as the best and loveliest of women."

"Nay, not the loveliest," said the young Manius, an a.s.sessor in Judea.

"I sing the praise of Salome, sister of our n.o.ble prince. Of all the forms in flesh and marble none compare with this beautiful daughter of the great king."

"May fairest women be for the best men," said Antipater, drinking his wine.

In a dim light along the farther side of the dining-hall was a row of figures, some draped, some nude, and all having the look of old marble.

Two lay in voluptuous att.i.tudes, one sat on a bank of flowers, and others stood upon pedestals.

There were all the varying forms of Venus represented in living flesh.

None, save Antipater and the slaves around him, knew that under each bosom was a fearful and palpitating heart. They were beautiful slave-girls captured on the frontiers of Judea. In spite of aching sinew and muscle, they had to stand like stone to escape the observation of evil eyes. There was a cruelty behind that stony stillness of the maidens, equal, it would seem, to the worst in Hades.

Slaves kept the wine foaming in every goblet, and fought and danced and wrestled for the pleasing of that merry company, and the hours wore away. Suddenly the sound of a lyre hushed the revels. All heard the voice of a maiden singing, and turned to see whence it came. A sweet voice it was, trembling in tones that told of ancient wrong, in words full of a new hope. Had life and song come to one of those white marbles yonder? Voice and word touched the heart of Vergilius--he knew not why; and this in part is the chant that stopped the revels of Antipater:

"Lift up my soul; let me not be ashamed---I trust in Thee, G.o.d of my fathers; Send, quickly send, the new king whose arrows shall fly as the lightning, Making the mighty afraid and the proud to bow low and the wicked to tremble.

Soon let me hear the great song that shall sound in the deep of the heavens; Show me the lantern of light hanging low in the deep of the heavens."

The voice of the singer grew faint and the lyre dropped from her hands.

They could see her reeling, and suddenly she fell headlong to the rug beneath her pedestal. Antipater rose quickly with angry eyes.

"The accursed girl!" said he. "A Galilean slave of my father. She is forever chanting of a new king."

Hot with anger and flushed with wine, he ran, cursing, and kicked the shapely form that lay fainting at the foot of its pedestal.

"Fool!" he shouted. "Know you not that I only am your king? You shall be punished; you shall enter the cage of the leopard."

He went no further. Vergilius had rushed upon him and flung him to the floor. Antipater rose quickly and approached the young Roman, a devil in his eyes. Vergilius had a look of wonder and self-reproach.

"What have I done?" said he, facing the Jew. "Son of Herod, forgive me. She is your slave, and I--I am no longer master of myself. I doubt not some strange G.o.d is working in me, for I seem to be weak-hearted and cannot bear to see you kick her."

The declaration was greeted with loud laughter. Antipater stood muttering as he shook the skirt of his toga.

"'Tis odd, my goodfellows," said Vergilius, "but the other day I saw a man scourging his lady's-maid. Mother of the G.o.ds! I felt as if the blows were falling on my own back, and out went my hand upon his arm and I begged him--I begged him to spare the girl."

All laughed again.

"You should have a doll and long hair," said Antipater, in a tone of contempt.

The proud son of Varro stood waiting as the others laughed, his brows and chin lifting a bit with anger. When silence came he spoke slowly, looking from face to face:

"If any here dare to question my courage, within a moment it shall be proved upon him."

None spoke or moved for a breath. Antipater answered, presently:

"I doubt not your courage, n.o.ble Vergilius, but if you will have it tried I can show you a better way, and one that will spare your friends. Come, all of you."

As they were rising, the young Gracus remarked: "By Apollo! I have not taken my emetic."

"To forget that is to know sorrow," said another.

Slaves brought their outer robes and they followed the young prince.

He led them, between vines and fruit trees and beds of martagon and mirasolus, to the lion-house in his garden. Vergilius now understood the test of courage to be put upon him. The great beasts were asleep in their cages, and Antipater prodded them with a lance. A thunder in their throats seemed to fill the air and shake the flames in the lampadaria. With sword and lance Antipater entered the arena, a s.p.a.ce barred high, about thirty feet square, upon which all the cages opened.

"The tiger!" he commanded.

Keepers lifted a metal gate, and the huge cat leaped away from their lances, backed snarling to the end of his cage, and with a slow, creeping movement put his head and fore-paws into the arena; then a swift step or two, a lowering of the great head, and side-long he stood, with eyes aglow and fangs uncovered, a low mutter in his mouth, like the roar of a mighty harp-string. Some fifteen feet away stood the son of Herod, his lance poised.

"Never strike while your beast has a foot to the ground," said he, keeping his gaze on the face of the tiger. "He will be quick to move and parry. Wait until he is in the air, and then thrust your lance."

He made a feint with his weapon; the tiger darted half his length aside, with a great, bursting roar, and, crouching low, stealthily felt the ground beneath him.

"Watch him now," said the tall Antipater. "He will leap soon."

Again he drove him forward, and then the beast turned, facing his tormentor, and crouched low. There, in a huge setting of bone and muscle strangely fitted to its fierceness, with eyes of fire and feet of deadly stealth, its back arched like a drawn bow, the wild heart of the son of Herod seemed to be facing him.

"Look!" a slave shouted. "He has bent his bow."

The haired lip of the beast quivered; great cords of muscle were drawn tense. Like a flash the bow sprang and the columns of bone beneath him lifted, flinging his long, striped body in the air. With cat-like swiftness Antipater stepped aside, and while the huge beast was in mid-air, thrust the lance into his heart. He bore with all his strength and rushed away, seizing an other weapon. The big cat fell and rose and struck at the clinging lance, and stood a second flooding the floor with blood. Then down he went shuddering to his death. The young men shouted loud their applause in honor of Herod's son. While the beast was dying slaves came and sanded the floor. Then, presently, they swept up the red sand, and tying a rope to the legs of the limp tiger, dragged him away. They had done this kind of work before, and each knew his part. Presently Antipater called two of them.

"Bring that girl Cyran--she that chants of her new king," said he, as they ran to do his bidding.